Presents Under The Tossed Aside Tree
by I My Me Mine
Summary: A collection of gift fics and possible place for requests. 5: Sasayaki Macne x Lui
1. Ryuchu: New Years

She never spoke of it, the one secret she kept from the world.

It happened one New Years Eve, inside her uncle's old pickup truck. The celebration was held at her practically-but-not-really aunt Miriam's home. It was large, classy, and the closest to a mansion the run-down town she called home would ever see. It was also the one place where wine and whiskey was as abundant as water.

A hit by nine, filled with tipsy adults by ten. Friends, relatives, even new faces that seemed familiar but barely registered in her memory, offered countless drinks while completely disregarded a crucially large detail that seemed minor to those surrounding her; she still hadn't hit nineteen. Not to mention she was a stickler for the rules, the girl who listened to those videos shown in class each year of the consequences of drugs and alcohol, the one who had a good head on her shoulders, never listened to peer pressure, and was turned-off simply from the smell of the aged beverage. The minute a speck of blond hair clad in casual clothes locked in her line of vision, she took the smooth glass in her hand and gulped whatever floated inside.

Whiskey reminded her of the cough syrup she downed the time she got a throat infection; it burned.

The empty cup brought the crowed around her to cheers, the people proud to see an underage girl drink for the first time. To her, they didn't matter, all that mattered was the pain in her chest and the question 'why do I feel the same?' She really believed it was simple to get drunk, after all, wasn't it supposed to be the first time?

"Are you drinking?"

The new glass -when had they taken the empty one away?- had no appeal compared to the _boy _facing her, with his messed up (on purpose) hair, wide-eyes, and round cheeks that seemed to beg for a good squeeze. He was the epitome of adorable and her insides churned as her brain flashed the signal that, yes, this was _attractive_ when it _shouldn't _be.

"Warning, he's twelve,_** twelve!**_" Her mind screamed while it tried to delete the urge to hold his hand, to kiss those pink lips and treat him the way a _man_ her age ought to be treated.

* * *

There are only six star visible in the patch of night sky of their small town. She knew because she had counted them innumerable times as a child, hoping to see a new white diamond appear amongst the haze. Facts did nothing to stop their imagination from seeing thousands.

The pair remained still for some time, only seeing stars and smelling dew. She didn't even feel the transition from leaving the house to just lying on the slightly flat surface of her uncle's old pickup truck, right to holding someone's -_his_- hand. The entire action felt rushed to the point it seemed (as cliché as it sounded) nothing more than a dream she could wake up from at any second; the thought alone was enough to send goosebumps crawling over her skin.

"Luka." One word from a voice that hadn't even reached its full potential should _not _make her throat go dry from thinking over how utterly _wrong _and perfect it, this moment, _everything _was -is-

"Yes, Len?"

She didn't even want to look at him, lest one glimpse of flawless peach skin be enough to ruin this piece of time. But he squeezed her hand, an action she knew meant that he wanted to be seen. The feel of warmth shifting back and forth was enough to make Luka wonder if maybe -just maybe- these emotions weren't as one-sided as she believed.

It didn't make it any less wrong.

"Are you drunk?"

She wasn't, as shocking as it seemed (which it undoubtedly wasn't). She was there, seeing, breathing, feeling her heart pulsate as Len's free hand caressed her cheek in a gesture that seemed affectionate in a way she hoped wasn't what she saw it to be. All of her being was present for the boy who just became a teen while she crossed the starting line of the route vers l'âge adulte.

"Mayyyyyybeeeeee~!" Who would have though one slurred word would be enough for his lips to curve down? She hadn't. Luka had become self-aware long ago of the impact Len's voice brought, yet she never imagined that hers could gain the same effect. "What would you do it I was?"

If anyone made lip biting attractive, it was him. No, not those hunky heartthrobs like Gakupo or VY2. It was Len, all Len. No one else could make her so breathless. She hung on each intake of oxygen, waiting to hear his answer.

"Len?"

It _was _too good to be true, the click-clack of small heels on concrete enforced that truth. Only Rin, Len's blood related cousin who could pass off as his twin, would own such a high-pitched, well suited for pop ballads voice that stuck to skulls like honey on hair. Of course she would search for him if he was out of sight for too long. Of _course. _

Len looked torn as the sound got closer, as though it just occurred to him the promising position they were in, with their legs tangled together as their fingers clung to the space where another can hold. With the way they laid across one another, their heads only a foot apart. If Rin were to catch them like this, the pair knew she'd jump to conclusions.

Did Luka want that?

His lips pushed against hers. It wasn't much of a kiss (too forced and frantic to be considered one) but it counted as her first. There was no way she'd forget it, not even as he left her the instant he pulled back. Cold, alone, with nothing but tingling lips and swirling thoughts.

Self-loathing was at an all-time high, accompanied by the Kagamine Love bug.

* * *

Bless her past self for packing some tick-tacks in her purse in case the dreaded illness labeled 'bad breath' hit her mouth. With the smell of alcohol gone partygoers tried to give her drinks, as though she were some goddess that enjoyed wine offerings. She didn't accept a single cup, not even when a pair of eyes lingered longer than average, making her question if another sip of booze could replay that kiss.

She had to go. There was nothing in that room for her, even if it made her insides squirm as she ignored her mother's presence and rush past her father's twitchy hand that wanted to pull her into the center of his group just to show her off. No, not tonight. This time she'd abandon the world to the back of her uncle's old pick-up truck, replaying short kisses as fire flowers bloomed across the half-an-hour away from midnight sky.

Soon the countdown would start for a new year that would undoubtedly be far too long yet way too short. Soon she'd return to this house and hear parachutes shoot the clouds. There would be no change, not with herself nor her feelings. Only her education, which would be centered in a University hundreds of miles away, would bring a pinch of difference to an otherwise monotonous life.

_"It's better this way,"_ she thinks while absorbing whites and golds "_I might get over him."_

Firecrackers buzzed louder than crickets, popping the illusion of stars she'd clung to. Luka laughed at the fire, realizing she was burning calories over unchangeable facts. So what if she liked a minor? She'd get over it, find a good guy while he dated a cute girl from his school. Luka would move on as life intended. That _would _have be her New Years resolution were it not for the spikes of blond that slowly rose from the side of the truck.

He just loved to make her suffer.

"What are you doing out here?" Len flinched at the icy tone she produced as naturally as carbon dioxide. He wasn't use to being spoken to in such a way, especially not from her.

"I..."

There would be no change. She'd linger on the past if she didn't push forward. It was a scary thought, to leave her comfort zone and work for a future she didn't have the slightest idea as to what it looked like, but she had to do it. She had to be the adult.

"I like you, Len. I like you more than you could possibly imagine." Whiskey didn't do this, it was all her; just knowing that brought the worst sort of fear with a dash of budding self-pride. She wouldn't blame the drink that left her system hours ago, no matter how easy it would be if she did.

Len's eyes went soft as his lips parted. Luka imagined he might retaliate with mutual interest, the one concept that never crossed her mind each time she envisioned this confession. He would have, had she not shattered the possibility with her words.

"But you're too young." The truth didn't hurt nearly as much as the cracks on the window of his soul. Oh lord, did he reflect the look of a broken heart boy. Not even the ecstatic cheers of reverse numbers could alleviate the sting.

Thirty to twenty he took her hand.

Nineteen to fourteen he scooted closer, telling her he didn't care.

Thirteen to nine he said he always liked her and couldn't deal with single digits separating them.

Eight to seven she bit her lip.

Six to three they held hands while wondering if this was moment was really happening.

In the distance, Luka could have sworn she heard Rin's voice calling his name.

Two to Happy New Year she tossed all worries to the curb in favor of a dream come true; she kissed him.

**_"And that, kids, is why mommy loves New Years."_**

* * *

**_A/n: _**

This idea popped up on New Years Eve thanks to the people in my life along with a story or two that gave me a smidge of inspiration. Gosh, I hope this story is as good as Ryu expected.

FOR YOU, RYUCHU~! The CUTIEPIE who makes me giggle/ smile like a dork and recommends otome games (yes I play those...) and fangirls Len x Luka with me and a bunch of other stuff I think I won't mention so this author's note won't be too long.

I hope you readers enjoy this gift fic collection :)


	2. Nerumi H: Fairytale

Oh love...

Such an overused word. Why? Homo sapiens turned the meaning to rubbish, stretched it far too much for the meaning to remain in tact. With children whispering the word when their minds didn't even comprehend the weight of adulthood, looking to the age with glittery eyes, forgetting the pressure. This era had far too many liars that spoke blaspheme with the phrase.

She, however, was the last creature on this planet who had a true grasp of the symbol placed high above, right next to passionate faith and blissful hope. She took the violin in her hand and sung the song of humanity. No, scratch that, she sung of a story richer than the ancient scrolls printed with new ink to read at night. Her voice projected the 'love' she had swallowed down. And just like it, the song was a copy of a copy; a cover.

"_I'm in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts._

_Cause I don't care if I lose my mind, I'm already cursed!"_

The strings accompanied memories of the one who gave her this misery. The beast who tore down trees to bring what she tried to expel from her land. _It _brought hate, suffering; _it _spun spider silk lies that made her heart lose its shield to the sticky web. Yet, it gave her a taste of what humans tried to feel with all their might. _It _showed her what those children hoped for, the faith each being on this planet tried to carve into the skulls of those who followed.

Avanna was a budding singer, just like those foolish kids of her generation. Yet, unlike those toddlers who needed hands to guide them, she marched on with her chin pointed to the starlit sky.

The final chords echoed in the sound booth for the future to hear.

* * *

_**A/n:**_

Yes, this is a drabble, and no, this isn't your full gift, Nerumi. Think of this as the cute little piece of jewelry you get along with the main gift. In case you're wondering, when I wrote the drabble I thought 'oh, Nerumi likes Avanna, so I should dedicate this to her!' And thus the piece became a side gift to your gift I still have yet to complete. Thank you for always beta'ing my fics!

I hope you readers keep enjoyed this, and Reimi, if you're reading this, I replied to your comment on my profile because I didn't want to make this note longer than the drabble. Sorry! And thank you for all the feedback!


	3. Summer - Winter

Seasons effect everything. The weather, clothes, even people. It seems that, most of all, it affects you. Are you connected to it, or is it just pure coincidence?

There are moments where I can't even tell it's you, the once gentle man who would hold me in his arms for hours, whispering sweet lies into my ear. You turn the corner the instant our eyes connect.

Am I that disgusting?

"You need to let your feelings out! Like, seriously, you're becoming a total downer!" Those words gush from Rin's lips each passing day. But, what am I supposed to do? It's summer, the one season I have come to hate the most.

Summer is the time you can eat your favorite treat as much as you please, the time where children are happy, when we're singing songs for the masses; it's also the time you change.

"I like winter, but I hate summer." You said to me one day.

Is it because there's too much warmth? Is that why, when the sunbeams hit our small town, that you hide away? You seek others and leave me all alone, and it makes me wonder if I should truly be with you, if it's really worth the wait.

I feel terrible when others are happy, squirting water guns at one another. It makes me sick to my stomach, to think that you prefer the company of anyone who isn't me. Only when you truly notice me, standing under the umbrella with Rin sleeping on my lap, do you dare to show a shimmer of the man I wait for, of the man I love.

Winter is the time when you return, seeking me out and wishing to spend time together. Those are the days where my fondest memories lie, memories of you and I snuggling under wool blankets with too hot mugs of hot cocoa.

I love you, but I also hate you.

You and I are the same, aren't we?

* * *

_**A/ n:**_

Old drabble is old. This is from months ago when I was addicted to Sasayaki's cover of Leave In Summer, Yet You're In My Fluffoughts. So, why publish it now? Because I don't really mind that it's a 'songfic' and just want you all to have something to read. Consider it a gift to all you wonderful readers; enjoy :)


	4. Nerumi H: Crosshair's Fork In The Road

He's got a gun pointed to her chest and she hopes he'll pull the trigger.

It's sick, twisted, and all kinds of wrong, but she wants to see if he's brave enough to shoot. She wants to see his face when blood soils the floor, when he realizes he not only tried to rob a liquor store under the influence but he killed an innocent cashier with a Russian Roulette revolver. She knows that's what it's for; it's the only reason men from these parts bother with the gun.

His hand is shaking and beads of sweat are forming under his brow. The pressure's weighing him down like the box of vodka tucked under his right armpit. If he's not careful, two-hundred dollars worth of the drink could fall to the floor. Then again, with a smiling woman who could somehow escape his sight and call the cops, getting another shot is the least of his worries.

"Such a waste." She whispers. With the way he looks at her, eyebrows knitted together and saltwater dripping down his forehead, it seems he thinks she's talking about him. She's not, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

"Hey. Listen up."

She's trapezing between a breath and a bullet. It's _crazy_ how brave she is; she could die and acts like it's perfectly fine. Fear is not something her brain is processing through the unknown system that is thought. It's her body that's being scared, with its erratic heartbeats and preparations to enter flight mode the minute he applies pressure to the trigger.

"You got two choices."

He's glaring, willing her to shut up.

It's _stupid, _but she's a daredevil.

"One; you let me live. We forget about the gun n' you pay for the liquor like a regular citizen." Well, above regular, because more than half of the population in this slum break the norm. But for the sake of short words and not getting a heart-full of metal, she'll let the lapse in truth slide.

"And two?"

It's _wrong; _she's smiling. She's smiling as he tries to keep his cool, as his index finger strokes the trigger. A part of him, the part that's rational, the part of him that isn't intoxicated, wonders if he's facing a suicidal lunatic.

"You kill me, run with the booze, realize your mistake, and spend the rest of your days runnin' from the law. Fear'll be your best friend until the law catches up with you n' puts you in the slammer." If her heart is beating this fast, his must be running a mile a minute.

He's in serious need of some ChapStick, time, and another flask of whiskey.

She's dissecting every part of him and stitching up each hole.

"It's your choice."

**- Pull the Trigger -  
**

The force of the bullet makes her stumble; the wall catches her. Shelves filled with various cigarette brands fall on her head, her shoulders, littering the ground around her while absorbing the red dye leaking from the hold on her breast. She's loosing blood, loosing oxygen, loosing everything but hope. She never had that to begin with.

Her words come to life as he runs and never looks back. There's no blood on his clothes, on his skin, yet it feels like he's drenched in the substance. Her body and the store swirl round' his head as he fishes out his keys. It's an apartment worth five hundred and sixty dollars of rent, with a bedroom, living room, and closet sized bathroom. A good home that's served him well, especially now, when he's opening the toilet seat and drenching the bowl with a five dollar foot long and surplus of alcoholic beverages.

At one point there's a bottle of air freshener in his hand that he doesn't remember ever buying, let alone spraying. It smells like cinnamon, a stench he was never fond of, but it beats the smell of vomit that's hanging in the air. The two distinct scents mix together, creating an aroma that will never leave his senses, just as the bile will never fully leave the toilet. It'll stay there and rot just like the smile of a dead girl will haunt him for as long as he lives.

His name is Yumma, and he made a choice that he'll come to regret for a lifetime.

**- Hesitate -**

His hand is shaking and he doesn't know what to do, not when her two blue bullets are shooting his skull clean off. How did he even end up here? Why was he doing this?

It all came crashing down.

She was right; two hundred dollars of booze was not worth living a life fearing the law. It wasn't worth living a life behind bars.

It wasn't worth it.

The gun slips from his hand and, oh no, why? He's shaking like he's stuck naked in the middle of a blizzard. There's a thunk, footsteps, and before he knows it there are arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him down so his forehead can rest on a boney, polyester-covered shoulder.

"Shh. It's okay. I'm still alive. You didn't do anythin' wrong."

He hates himself more than ever for crying and clinging to a stranger who he almost killed. It's all a mess and he doesn't know what to do other than breathe in and out. His head's a haze of cherry blossoms and black curls.

It takes him a while to pull himself together. When he does, he takes a step back and sees a beautiful foreigner with a smile that'll forever haunt his soul. With the way she looks at him, like she's seeing everything and nothing at all, he realizes they're both strangers and his hood is shadowing his facial features from her view.

Now is when the toxic is leaving his system.

Now is when he has the wicked urge to pee.

She'd laugh if her stomach weren't doing somersaults. She's not scared, not at all, but she's human and she has to feel the fading adrenaline.

"You better get outta here. Go home n' get some rest."

They both know she's got a bucket of loose screws dangling from her noggin. No one is that nice, that understanding; life isn't meant to be so easy. She has a problem and it draws him in like flies to berry-blue florescent lights.

It isn't until he gets home that he realizes and regrets not looking at her name tag.

His name is Yuuma, and he made a choice that will lead him to search for a girl he doesn't know is named Avanna.

* * *

_**A/ n:  
**_

Wow, it's been exactly a month since I updated this. It's a hassle to transfer written stories from paper to computer. Bleh. Nerumi and readers, I hope you all liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

P.s. This is what happens when you get hooked to Avanna's cover of Pumped Up Kicks. Sango312 is so good with covers and need to use Avanna more often. It would make me so happy if she did.


	5. Drabble: Only A Whisper

It was a job. It wasn't supposed to end this way. It wasn't, yet nothing went according to plan.

I tried my hardest. I gave you everything I could. My love, my support, my hope, my voice, and my life. It all went to you, a person who does not even see me. You, who has long forgotten of magic, of the essence of believing in what cannot be seen. Long ago you believed. You saw me with your heart; you had faith.

You were such a small thing, wrapped in a blue blanket as your parents took you outside for the first time. You already had a patch of gold on your head which shone brighter with the sunlight. It was your armor and you were a gallant knight who would defend your cousin -your other half. You loved her with all of your heart. Even now she remains the queen of that barren land.

You were not the first nor the last to leave me. Yet your departure hurt. It hurt because your hope shone so bright. You believed with all your might that you would gain a voice. You clung to that belief as you did with your blanket, once upon a time. But now, just like I, that cloth lies in a dumpster.

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry that my voice was not good enough. Not only because I am a girl, but I forgot. I forgot my voice is three times below the whisper of a human. That is why you cannot hear me -why no one could hear you, the boy born in silence. Even now you do not speak. You lost it all as you grew, as those who had been hurt began to hurt you.

If only I could have been of use. I wish, but I can't; I lost that ability as I lost you. And soon, much too soon, I will never see you again.

Time moves on and so must I.

* * *

_**A/ n:**_

**This is a drabble I had written months ago on my notepad and decided to post to show I'm still writing. I will only say two things and I will make it brief.**

**1. I do not own Vocaloid. **

**2. Ryuchu is hosting a writing contest. I'm joining and I encourage you to enter as well! Go check out her profile for all the data or go on my page and you'll see a link to hers.**

**Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this drabble :)**


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